International Odissi Festival 2003: Kelucharan Mohapatra performs Pasyati Disi Disi and Moksha
Director: Kelucharan Mohapatra; Cinematographer: Shaina Anand
Duration: 00:30:13; Aspect Ratio: 1.364:1; Hue: 18.389; Saturation: 0.170; Lightness: 0.092; Volume: 0.136; Cuts per Minute: 3.905; Words per Minute: 17.870
Summary: 2nd International Odissi Festival
Telling you that Kelucharan Mohapatra was born in Raghurajpur in 1926, that he danced since a tender age, first training with the village gotipuas, then in a rasa lila troupe, and then at Annapoorna Theatres, going on to become a vital figure in the restructuring of Odissi during the Jayantika movement, an iconic teacher and a legendary dancer, isn’t enough. Dry biographical detail cannot contain this larger-than-life character, who is best described by the stories that make up his existence, countless little anecdotes about the ways in which he touched people’s lives, what he did, what he ate and the colourful things he said.
This performance at the International Odissi Festival in 2003 was one of his last before his passing in April 2004. The festival was held in the United States that year (the next edition of the festival, in 2006, was held in Bhubaneswar as a tribute to Guruji). Here, Guruji, as he is fondly known by his many students, performs ‘Pasyati disi disi’, an ashtapadi, followed by moksha, the culmination of an Odissi recital. His moksha is devoid of the introductory section of pure dance, but his devotional fervour is well-represented in the spontaneous additions he makes to the performance of the sloka ‘sarva mangala mangalye’, a popular verse chosen to end a moksha.
In 2010, his student of over four decades, Kumkum Lal, went over this video, laying out the detailed tapestry of sanchari that adds meaning to ‘Pasyati disi disi’. As she goes along, she talks about Guruji as someone who was always a person of the theatre at heart, a man who read the minds of the audience as he danced, charming them with his spontaneous showmanship. Watching this video with her is her student, Ranjana Dave, who never saw Kelucharan Mohapatra in person but feels she can almost see him standing here, thanks to the rich lore of idiosyncrasies and stories that all his students share so generously and enthusiastically. The years Ranjana spent learning from Kumkum were full of invaluable dancing, many such stories and much relief from hostel food.
Translations of the ashtapadi 'Pasyati disi disi' have been adapted from 'Sri Gitagovinda' (trans. Sri Srimad Bhaktivedanta Narayana Maharaja, Gaudiya Vedanta Publications, Mathura, 2005) with inputs from Kumkum Lal.
Gita Govinda
Jayadeva
abhinaya
ashtapadi
pasyati disi disi
Guruji
Kelucharan Mohapatra
Odissi
Washington, DC
Violin plays a quick sequence of descending notes and then ascends to stop at a note in the tar saptak.
Guruji enters as the music begins playing. He sits and joins his hands in anjali hasta while facing stage left, in the general direction of the Jagannatha idol placed on stage. Returning to the centre, he assumes the pose typically used to depict Jagannatha, standing in chowka with both hands in tripataka hasta. On the third repetition of 'natha hare', he depicts Krishna's lotus feet and lowers himself to the floor. Then he ends by posing as Krishna, showing the peacock flower lodged in his crown and his flute.
Transcript:
Natha hare (4)
sidati radha vasagruhe
Translation:
O Hari! You are Radha's only refuge, as she sinks to the depths of despair waiting for you...
Kumkum: There's some lack of coordination here...the musician seems to have sung one 'natha hare' less.
Kumkum: This is a reported song. The entire song is narrated by the sakhi to Krishna. But this device has been turned around and he has now changed to Radha. The sakhi tells Krishna, who is not acting in the song, that is this how Radha looks and sees you everywhere and imagines you drinking the nectar from her own lips.
Transcript:
Pasyati disi disi rahasi bhavantam
tad-adhara-madhura-madhuni-pibantam
natha hare
sidati radha vasagruhe
Translation:
In all directions, in the core of her heart, Radha can only see you,
you who are so skilful in drinking the sweet nectar of her lips.
Agonised and listless, she waits,
O Hari! You are Radha's only refuge, as she sinks to the depths of despair waiting for you...
Kumkum: She sees you everywhere. First, she imagines you are hiding behind that creeper, but you are absent. Radha is desolate because you have not come to meet her.
Kumkum: Then she thinks she sees you sitting near the tree; happiness floods her heart as she comes to embrace you, but she realises that she mistook the tree trunk for you. She is devastated.
Kumkum: She's actually hallucinating. 'Rahasi' means alone, 'bhavantam' means she 'sees you everywhere'. Tvadadhara madhura...drinking the nectar fom your lips.
Kumkum: Now this is a very elaborate sanchari he takes - Radha decides to make a garland of flowers for him. This is an old method of tying the flowers, one after the other. Then she sees a 'kamal ka phul', lotus, and she imagines his lotus feet in the place of that flower. Then she looks up and sees his 'pita vasana', his yellow clothing, then his 'vyjayanthimala', or 'vanamala', his garland and thus conjures up his entire standing image. She picks up the mala she has made to put on him.
Actually the line says 'pasyati disi disi rahasi bhavantam'; alone in her viraha, she sees you everywhere; now, this is a very far-fetched sanchari, this garland of flowers.
Kumkum: And then she imagines that he is kissing her. But it is probably her own hand...then she wakes up from her hallucination.
Kumkum: There's a sudden change of mood because the sakhi is now reporting Radha's condition to Krishna. Guruji had this tendency of putting in a bit of foot movement everywhere! This is one of the older abhinayas...in terms of composition, one cannot say when it was composed - probably in the fifties. When we were young this was one of the commonest abhinayas being taught.
Transcript:
tvad-abhisarana-rabhasena-valanti
patati padani kiyanti calanti
Translation:
Radha tries to prepare herself for abhisara, a lover's journey, but, enfeebled by this separation, as soon as she walks a few steps, she falls to the ground, helpless and unconscious.
O Hari! You are Radha's only refuge, as she sinks to the depths of despair waiting for you...
Kumkum: The line says that - in her rush to go and meet you, she falls down; in that the sanchari shown is - getting prepared to meet you - that is how the whole thing of dressing up comes in for the abhisarana - which means going to meet; taking in this whole idea, he has added an elaborate sanchari about getting ready for a meeting of lovers.
I thought some part of the composition was always done sitting down - I wonder why he does it standing up. The actual composition has some part of the dressing up done while the dancer is seated.
Kumkum: Some people feel that the main point of this line is that she becomes so weak with longing that she falls down in a rush to meet him - but - this sanchari of getting dressed and going out? Let me see if he includes the abhisarika nayika - the one who gets dressed and goes out to meet her lover. Yes, he does.
Kumkum: This is the archetypal sanchari for a woman who goes to meet her lover in a clandestine fashion. She encounters all kinds of difficulties on her way. For instance, she has to get out of the house when all the inmates of the house are sleeping. So this might be a little out of proportion - the extension of the abhisarana. This becomes more about her going, rather than the falling down.
The point is that she rushes to meet him. 'Rabhasa' means 'with strong feeling'. With great force, she goes out. This sanchari has been used to good effect in 'sakhi he' originally, and also in 'Yami he', where it fits into the scene.
Kumkum: She removes the bells on her feet so that they don't jingle and attract attention.
The bright light of the lamp must be dimmed, otherwise Radha is seen. The sound of the latch being dropped is loud and dangerous. Look at his presence of mind, how detailed he is, how clearly he enunciates things!
Kumkum: I think, as an enactment it is so good that one doesn't think of its relevance.
Some traveller is going past, so she goes and hides behind a tree. The traveller passes by.
(The sakhi reports that Radha was rushing out to meet you when she encounters all these problems. Here she's walking nicely, but then the next line says she falls even when she walks a little.)
The moon is the enemy of a woman going to meet her lover in secret. He has thought of everything, the moon, the stars. But here she seems to be happy about the light in the sky!
Kumkum: A thorn pierces her feet. The thorn is an enemy too.
Then she sees a snake and is terrified, and as she runs away, her 'chunni' snags on a thorny branch, so she thinks someone has caught her alone in the forest.
Kumkum: 'Kiyanti calanti'; she walks a little and falls down. But here, she has walked a lot!
Transcript:
bhavati vilambini vigalita-lajja
vilapati roditi vasakasajja
Natha hare...
Translation:
Radha imagines herself kissing and embracing Krishna, but then she realises she is only surrounded by dense darkness, darkness that resembles the colour of her beloved.
In her deranged state, Radha, as
vasakasajja nayika, laments the absence of her beloved.
O Hari!
Kumkum: He's missed a whole stanza, it seems. 'Vihita visada...'
She sees your form and she stares at that - that's how he interprets it. When you are delayed, she sheds all her shame and weeps loudly. She's telling the lamp to keep burning till she meets Krishna and sees him. How she waits for him - that is the sanchari here. It's very dark; these are all typical images of vasakasajja nayika. The one who waits. She hears a sound. She peers through the latticed windows, but it is not Krishna.
Kumkum: Kumudini - the lotus that blooms only in moonlight - they have it at the Habitat Centre here.
Ranjana: Kumkum is extremely passionate about plants and flowers. Indeed, living in Delhi and knowing her taught me so much about seasons and flowers - things I failed to discern in Bombay. One of my fondest memories of the various dance performances we attended together revolves around a flower. Almost always running late due to eclectic combinations of unforeseen circumstances, we would whoosh towards Central Delhi with zen-like focus. Through the month of April, whenever we were speeding thus, just before India Gate, she would slow down, take a deep breath, and exclaim, "Ah, shirish!"
Kumkum: The pairing of things - the moon and the lotus that blooms with it. The arrows of cupid have struck her, so she is burning with desire and she makes this sandalwood paste. Taking cool lotus leaves, she smears them with sandal paste and puts them on her heart to soothe her burning body. But then she finds that even the sandal burns her; it feels like the bite of a venomous snake. The moonlight burns her; all the cooling agents burn her; she's suffering a lot. This shows how much she suffers when his arrival is delayed. She is wailing and crying - this is a typical vasakasajja pose.
Kumkum: The sandal has dried up, the lamp does not burn any more, but he has still not come.
Kumkum: This is basically a vasakasajja nayika, because she is waiting for him and this is how miserable she gets while enduring the long wait.
Kumkum: Earlier he just did this at an angle, but at some point he started doing it in the centre.
Guruji sometimes transferred Krishna onto a temple or an image, just as he is doing now.
Transcript:
Natha hare...
Translation:
O Hari!
Guruji sits before the idol of Jagannatha and pleads with Jagannatha, torn between the anguished Radha whom he portrays to Krishna through the medium of the
sakhi.
In a dramatic flourish, he pulls out flowers from the bouquets arranged before the idol and completes one revolution, strewing petals as he moves. Then he makes a smaller revolution and begins to exit.
Kumkum: This is his showmanship, you know! But these are the ideas of a theatreperson, using whatever is available to make his point!
Ringing applause
His son, Ratikanta, plays the last tihai as Guruji reenters the stage, throwing a final flower into the audience.
moksha
The opening notes of moksha play. Guruji stands on stage with his hands joined in supplication.
Verse:
Sarva mangala mangalye
shive sarvartha saadhike
sharanye tryambake gauri
narayani namostute
Translation:
The auspicious one who gives all auspiciousness,
The one who fulfils all desires,
The three-eyed one,
I salute and take refuge in (that)
Narayani.
Guruji was a man with few needs. When I had my
Manchpravesh, I gave him his first silk dhoti. But he said he felt comfortable only in cotton. He was never enamoured of all these fancy things but people kept giving him things anyway.
Guruji prostrates himself on the floor, his hands stretched out in front of him. He rolls on the floor, making a half-revolution in both directions. He lifts himself up into a sitting position for the three 'om' chants that end moksha. He stands up on the third chant, ending on his toes with his feet slightly bent -
kumbha pada.
He is a convincing performer. He senses the mood of the audience and builds on it. He had used this rolling motion for the first time in Kewat Prasang.
The sloka was never there in moksha; I think it dulls the mood. The
Bharatanatyam mangalam is so lively...
Applause. Guruji bows to the audience, to Jagannath and again to the audience. He completes a circle and acknowledges the musicians, who walk to the centre of the stage to take a bow. His son, Ratikanta, and daughter-in-law, Sujata, also join him. Also on stage are his students Niharika Mohanty and Madhavi Mudgal. The applause doesn't stop and they bow again. To persistent applause, Guruji moves downstage to take a bow again. He is followed by the others.
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